My Beautiful Killing Jar
by mxmsupporter
Summary: Maybe I was submissive, maybe I cared about him too much... But that's what best friends are for, right? Matt POV, song inspired oneshot.


**Suggested listening:** _The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You_ by My Chemical Romance

Blue eyes. They are gazing at me all the time. Watching me. Controlling me. Not that I mind, really. I grew used to them. Icy stare turns at me even now, when its owner turns in his chair. Blond hair wave in a lazy manner when he leans to get his precious silver wrapper from the coffee table. He takes a bar of chocolate into his long, gloved fingers and messes with the package, finally reaching his treasure. Snapping sound fills the room as I exhale slowly, grey smoke leaving my parted lips.

This will be our last night.

He decided it. I had nothing to say, a week ago when he announced it I just glanced at him with wide eyes and nodded. His gaze softened and he went out of the room. Just like he always did. Our friendship couldn't be seen as an agreement where both sides were equal. He was the leader. The protector. The winner. The one that I couldn't help but follow. But it was a good pact for me. I finally had someone to care for me. Well, maybe he didn't show it often and fulsome, that's true. But I knew. And was the only one to know. Until the one night that I doubted it. Until the night when he left, leaving me behind in a nightmare that was Wammy's House without him. After a few years, he called. Just one phone call was enough for me to get by his side again. Without asking, without remorse. Without questioning the damage he put himself through just to beat Near. Just he and I again, with the world behind us.

When he was telling me about the plan, he smiled suddenly and said "Maybe you and I will be able to survive. Maybe we'll just get out of this fucking illusion and kick Kira's ass…" He lied. And he knew I knew it too. But he kept on with his game, with the play of pretence. We needed that. And he was aware of that too. After all, he was my best genius friend.

But the night before the deadline was different. I could sense it. And see it too, when he put his chocolate down. He's never done that in the fourteen years I've known him. His leather creaked when he got up and took a few steps to a ruined, hard bed standing in the corner of the room. I glanced at him, a cigarette dangling from my lips. He laid on his back with his arms under his head and stared at the ceiling. Shadows played on his cheek, making its scarred area more visible that any other day. I threw the now burnt out fag to the ashtray and rose from my chair, leaving the monitors I'd been watching. Nothing interesting, anyway. I reached the bed and patted him on the shoulder. His blue eyes rose and their intensity shot me again, just like every time he was looking at me. – May I join you, Mello? – he gazed at me for a moment and nodded. I fell on the covers and let out a soft sigh that didn't go unnoticed. – What are you thinking of, Matt? – he whispered, rising on his elbows. I glanced at him, noticing his hand clutching a rosary. It was an old habit of his. It didn't have any religious means, do you really think that a person like Mello would believe in paranormal stuff? He kept both feet on the ground and never stopped because something was 'immoral' or 'inappropriate' in somebody's opinion. The way he's chosen was the most important thing for him. And he was the most intelligent person I've ever known (He was on my level, of course. Yeah, my last name is Modesty.) We agreed that there's nothing 'above us' when we were twelve. But on the night I found him, covered in blood and unable to stand up because he hurt his labyrinth by the power of explosion, he was doing it too. It soothed him, made his sanity come back. I didn't question it, it was just a part of him like goggles were a part of me. He looked at me in anticipation, his perfect face somehow tired. I bit my lower lip, thinking. – I guess about all the things we've done together. All the pranks we've played… And the biggest one that we're gonna do tomorrow. – a ghost of smile played on his lips. – You think we'll succeed? – He brushed away the strand of hair that fell to his eyes and added – Not like I don't believe it, I'm just curious about your opinion. – I looked at him and slowly nodded. Mello hummed in contentment and fell on his back again, his hand contacting mine just a little. – Mello… There's just one thing that I want to know before… Before we go get Kira. – The blond concentrated on me, waiting. – Mello…What's your name? -

* * *

And this is it. The moment when my body looses control and I slowly slip into darkness. My brain hurts. My whole body hurts, bullet holes fuming slightly. I lay on the hood of my Camaro, feeling a cigarette leaving my parted lips. I did it for him. Without questions, without remorse. As always. He was my best friend after all. I'd go to Hell with him… Even if it doesn't exist.

* * *

"Mello leant over me, his lips brushing my earlobe. – Mihael Keehl – he whispered, squeezing my fur vest. I smiled lightly and said – Mail Jeevas – he looked at me, a small smirk changing his features. He got on his bike and waved at me. – Till the next time, Mattie…- "

**By MxMSupporter, 14.06.13  
Corrected by ZJeM**


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